


Way Home

by Exdraghunt



Category: Captain America (Movies), Steam Powered Giraffe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exdraghunt/pseuds/Exdraghunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve Rogers freed the prisoners from the HYDRA base, the last thing he expected to find was a robot strapped to an examination table. But it would be the start of a long friendship, and a great team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prolouge

This started with a thought "So if the SPG bots served in WW2, what if they met Captain America?" 

\- - - - 

 

He ran past door after door, flinging each open before quickly determining that they were empty of life and moving on to the next. Where were they keeping Bucky? He HAD been captured with the rest of them, the other prisoners had confirmed that, but the young man from New York had been taken out of the holding cells days before and they had not seen him since

Steve threw open the door to another lab and froze. Still no Bucky. Or HYDRA agents. Instead there was a robot lying strapped down to a table in the center of the room, still and unmoving. Steve crept closer. If this was some new HYDRA weapon, he needed to get a better look and, hopefully, destroy it. But as he neared the table, Steve realized that the automaton was wearing an American Army uniform. It was ripped and spattered with mud, but still recognizable. Why would a HYDRA creation wear an American uniform

He was close enough to touch the bot, marveling at the intricate swirls and designs of its copper face, when there was a sudden sound of whirring parts and the robot’s “eyes” flickered on, steam gushing from the vents in its cheeks

Steve leapt backward and pulled out his shield, not willing to take any chances.

The robot pulled weakly at the straps binding it to the table, “W-w-w-where am I?” Its voice was glitchy and full of static, but Steve could still hear the oddly human-sounding fear as the thing tried in vain to sit up. Its head turned, “eyes” focusing on Steve and taking in the man’s patriotic uniform, “Where are m-m-m-my brothers? What hap-happened? Are. . . .are you here to rescue me?”

With a flash, Steve suddenly remembered something he had heard ages ago, at the start of the war when America had first joined. Something about the American army enlisting the help of robots created by some mad inventor in California. He had thought it was a rumor, but now, with proof lying before him. .

Steve cautiously walked over, still wary of the robot and it’s intentions, “Are you with the Allied forces?”

It nodded, “M-m-m-my name is Rabbit. I was s-s-s-s-s,” Rabbit’s head twitched and jerked to the side as he struggled to get the word out, “SENT to break troops out. But there were too many Huh-HYDRA troops."

Making a decision, Steve approached the table and unbuckled one of the arm restraints, then walked around to undo the other, “I’ve already released all the prisoners, and HYDRA troops are evacuating the facility. I’m looking for one more soldier, then I’m getting out.” He had a sudden thought, “Have you seen a man named James Barnes?”

“James Barnes,” Rabbit’s eyes dimmed for a moment as he leant forward to undo the straps holding down his legs, “Y-y-y-yes, he’s three doors down. I heard him yelling when I w-w-w-was brought in.” The robot swung his legs over the edge of the table and stood, wobbling a bit as his gyros tried to cope with the sudden change from horizontal to vertical

Steve brightened and ran out of the room, “Come on, we’ve got to get him then get out of here. The whole place is set to blow.”

Rabbit nodded and stiffly ran after his rescuer


	2. Meeting the Band

I apologize in advance if anyone is horribly out of character. :U I haven't ever written for either of these fandoms before. 

So, roughly half of the story will occur in the modern day, and the other half will be flashbacks to the war. Mostly to get the other Avengers and other Band Members in on the act. 

EDIT: Now with art! http://fav.me/d5vwygf  
\- - - - --

 

\- - - - 

 

Tony Stark yawned and stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee, clad in a pair of pajama pants with hair standing on end in all directions. It was almost four o’clock in the afternoon, and he had just gotten out of bed. Switching the coffee maker on, Tony sat down heavily on a stool at the counter and slumped down, cheek resting against the cool marble. 

Steve Rogers watched his teammate from his place in the living room adjacent to the kitchen and rolled his eyes, “Are you just getting out of bed?”

A mumble that vaguely resembled either a positive or an expletive (or perhaps both) was his only response. 

Sighing, Steve turned his attention back to the movie he was watching. Thor was back in Asgard, Clint was down in the training room, Bruce was holed up in his lab, and Natasha had disappeared off to god-knows-where; so Steve was going to take full advantage of having the television all to himself. Tony was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and if he wasn’t he had JARVIS to look out for him. 

A few minutes later the coffee was ready and Tony visibly perked up as the caffeine hit his system. Mug held tightly in his hands, the billionaire headed back to his room to get dressed and re-emerged clad in his usual worn jeans paired with a band t-shirt. 

“What –are- you watching?” Tony stood beside the couch and cocked an eyebrow as he stared at the T.V, “Wait, is that West Side Story?”

“Yes,” Steve responded somewhat defensively, “I like musicals.”

Tony snorted into his coffee, but thankfully Steve was spared any further snarky comment by the timely interruption of JARVIS. 

“Sir,” The AI chimed in with his calm accented voice, “There is a group of people downstairs seeking entrance. What would you like me to do?”

“If they’re reporters, tell them to fuck off,” Tony finished off his coffee and ambled over to the kitchen to get more. 

“They do not appear to be reporters sir,” JARVIS responded, unfazed by his creator’s words, “It is three young men accompanied by three robotic automatons.”

-That- made Tony perk up, “Robots? Hostile?”

“I do not believe so sir. They are carrying musical instruments, and I do not detect any kind of weapons.”

“Okay, this I have to see,” Tony set his coffee down on the counter and headed for the elevator. 

Steve sighed and moved to get off the couch, “Do you want backup?”

“I think I can handle a group of musicians,” There was a disapproving silence and Tony relented, “Okay, fine. JARVIS, keep the Mark VII on standby, would you? Just in case.”

“Of course, sir.”

 

The ground floor was quiet and dark when the elevator’s door smoothly slid open. It had been built with the intention of being office space, but after the battle of Manhattan everyone agreed it was probably a bad idea to rent out space in a tower full of superheroes. So now it was dark and being used as a pseudo-storage space. 

Lights flickered on as Tony moved through the space for the large double doors. Opening it, he was somewhat surprised by the three very ordinary looking young men standing there. Standing behind them at a respectful distance were three taller figures, hats pulled low to conceal their faces. 

“Uh, hi,” The tallest of the men stepped forward and held out a hand, “I’m Michael Reed. We’re here to see Captain Rogers.”

Tony didn’t move, “Yeah, you and a hundred other people. Except most people don’t bring robots with them. What are you really here for?”

The group stiffened in surprise, causing Tony to roll his eyes. He had the most advanced security in the world, and they expected him to –not- notice that they had three robots with them? 

There was a shuffle, then the tallest robot lurking in the back stepped forward, the other two following, “Sir, my brothers and I served alongside the Captain during the war. We just came for a visit.” He spoke with a pleasantly deep voice and tipped his hat, “My name is The Spine. These are my brothers, Rabbit and The Jon.”

The other two human members frowned a bit at being left out of the introductions. 

“Oh yeah, and this is Steve and Sam.” The Jon, a slightly built brass robot with a mass of blonde curls stated with a massive grin, “And we are Steam Powered Giraffe!”

“The singing m-m-m-musical auto-matons.” The third robot chimed in. 

“Wait a minute,” Tony held up a hand. It was 4:30 in the afternoon, and it was –still- too early for this level of crazy, “As in Peter Walter’s Steam Man Band?” He had heard of the band, as had anyone who worked with robotics and AI’s, but he didn’t think the ‘bots were still around after all these years. 

“That’s us!” Rabbit chimed in, striking a pose. 

Tony groaned, “JARVIS, tell Steve to get his butt down here. He’s got guests.”

“Right away, sir.”

If the situation hadn’t been so crazy, Tony would’ve laughed at the expressions the group made when they heard the AI’s voice. While most of them looked wary, The Jon gasped in wonder and looked around excitedly. 

“Oh, is there another robot here?” He bounced, causing his top hat to nearly come unseated from his unruly curls, “HELLO! My name is The Jon. Who are you?”

A long silence was his only response, and the youngest robot drooped in disappointment.

“That’s JARVIS, my computer system. He handles the house.” Tony relented at The Jon’s crestfallen look. How did these robots manage to mimic human expressions so well?

Michael seemed concerned and put a hand on The Jon’s shoulder, “Jon, JARVIS isn’t like you and your brothers,” he said softly, “It’s just a computer.”

“Oh.” 

Well that was a bit insulting. JARVIS was far more than “just a computer.” He was certainly more advanced than the century-old automatons standing at the door. Fortunately, Tony was saved from the awkward loitering-in-the-doorway by the sound of the elevator opening. 

“Tony, who is it?” Steve walked over; and though his stance was wary he’d at least left his shield upstairs. Then he spotted just who was waiting at the door and his jaw dropped. 

The seconds stretched until Rabbit just couldn’t handle it anymore and he shoved past Tony into the Tower, “CAP!”

“Rabbit?!” Steve couldn’t believe his eyes. The robot was dressed in a finely cut black outfit rather than a baggy army uniform and his copper face had gained quite a bit of green patina over the years, but there was no mistaking those mismatched blue and green eyes. 

“We all thought y-y-y-you were dead. B-b-but th-th-then the news said y-y-you were found, a-a-a-nd-“ Rabbit was talking too fast for his voice box to keep up and it cut out in a burst of static. He frowned, steam jetting from his cheeks in a show of frustration, and tried again a little slower, “We had to come see you. Took awhile to get the money, but we made it.”

“We- Spine? Jon?” 

The Spine smiled and stepped into the Tower as well, The Jon right on his heels, “Captain. It’s good to see you again.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He had learned months (years, decades) ago that it was a loosing battle to try and get The Spine to call him by anything but his rank. 

“Cap!” The Jon, meanwhile, bounced right past his brothers and wrapped his arms around the super soldier in the biggest hug he could manage. 

Laughing and patting The Jon’s back, Steve looked honestly happy for the first time since he’d landed in this unfamiliar decade. “It’s so great to see you guys.” He looked up at the others waiting at the door and carefully detangled himself from The Jon, “Who did you bring with you.”

“I’m Michael Reed,” Michael took initiative and stepped forward to shake Steve’s hand, trying very hard not to have a fanboy attack everywhere (it was Captain –freaking- America!), “One man band and robot mechanic.”

“Sam Luke, drummer.” Sam had the largest grin ever under his moustache, “It’s so awesome to meet you Captain Rogers.”

“And I’m Steve Negrete, the sound engineer.” 

“Musicians?” Steve looked at them in surprise, “You guys are playing music again?”

Rabbit nodded, “After the Vietnam war, we downloaded a vow of peace. N-n-now we just play music.”

“That’s great,’ Steve suddenly seemed to realize they were all still loitering by the door, “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

The group headed for the freight elevator in the back of the building (since there was no way the regular one would hold their combined weight) and Tony situated himself next to his teammate, “You didn’t tell me you served with robots during the war.”

Steve shrugged, “I figured that was public knowledge by now. Like the rest of my life. I met Rabbit after my very first mission. . . ”

\- - - - - -

The raid had been a success. He’d freed the prisoners, found Bucky, and blown up a HYDRA base in the process. Now, though, they were faced with the long march back to home base. Steve cursed himself for smashing the radio receiver Howard had given him, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. 

Fortunately, they had gotten away with a tank, a couple trucks, and fairly minimal injuries. They had set up sort of a rotation for the men to take breaks from marching to ride on the vehicles, the injured getting the longest and best spots. 

Steve made rounds among the men as they walked, checking up on everyone making sure they were doing well. It wasn’t unusual for the soldiers to insist they were all right up until they collapsed, so he sometimes had to muscle them into taking a turn riding on one of the trucks. 

One figure was lagging behind the rest, limping badly as he doggedly marched forward. Steve frowned and wandered toward the back, “Are you doin’ okay?”

Rabbit looked up at him with a surprised expression, “J-j-just fine, Captain. Sweet of y-y-y-you ta care.” Steam leaked sluggishly from his vents and Rabbit staggered, one hand wrapping around his midsection. 

“Woah,” Steve moved quickly and steadied the other soldier, grunting slightly under Rabbit’s weight, “Just fine, huh? Come on, I don’t think I’ve seen you take a turn on the trucks since we started walking.”

“That’s okay,” Rabbit seemed almost worried as he pulled away from the Captain’s hold, “J-j-j-just need some water fo-for the ol’ boiler a-and I’ll be r-r-r-right as rain.”

His voice had gotten worse since Steve had found him in the HYDRA base. The Captain pulled out his canteen and handed it over, “You’re steam powered, right? Here, you need it more.”

That brought a look of utter shock to the automaton’s face as he took the canteen and drank it down. “Why?”

“Why what?” Steve tucked the now empty canteen back in his pocket. 

“Y-y-you’re the fuh-first person to t-t-t-treat me like a puh-person,” Rabbit was dead serious as he studied Steve’s face, “Why?”

If that wasn’t sad, Steve didn’t know what was. Rabbit might’ve been made out of metal and gears, but five minutes of talking to him would prove to anyone that he was as human as any person. Steve didn’t think robots were supposed to have a sense of humor, after all. Or compassion. He didn’t voice that, though. “You’re a soldier, just like any other man here. And that means you’re my responsibility. What you’re made out of doesn’t matter.”

Rabbit’s jaw dropped and he nodded dumbly even as Steve’s large hand landed on his shoulder, “Now come on, you’re taking a turn on the trucks whether you like it or not.”


	3. Horse Adventure

With special guest appearance from Clint Barton

 

“- And then the zoo hired us for the summer,” Rabbit was excitedly telling Steve all about what the band had been doing for the last couple years, which involved much waving of hands and dance moves. Everyone else was wisely staying back, “And oh, the k-k-kids loved us. We wrote all sortsa new songs so’s they could sing n’ dance a long with us. Now we’re even tourin’ and doing concerts.”

“That’s great,” Steve watched him with amusement as the group stepped out of the elevator, “I’d love to come see you guys perform some time.”

“We’re actually playing a concert tomorrow night,” Steve Negerete spoke up, “It was the only way we could afford to come this far.”

“We saved you a ticket,” The Jon chirped as he dug around in his pockets. The Spine sighed and produced the ticket from his vest pocket. (Because there was no way anyone would actually let The Jon carry anything important.)

“Great. I’ll see if I can get everyone else to come,” Steve gave Tony a pointed look. The billionaire could certainly afford the price of a couple concert tickets.

“Of course we’ll go, Capsicle,” Tony flopped down on one of the couches, sharp eyes watching every move the robots made. Their bodies were outdated by any standard (-Steam- power? In this day and age?) but their movements, gestures, and speech were incredibly advanced. He hated to admit it, but he didn’t think even JARVIS could show this level of emotion. (Which was probably a good thing. The AI’s calm accented voice berating him was bad enough). Tony idly wondered if they had been built with this level of emotive ability, or if they had been upgraded in recent years.

“Oh, Cap, we’ve gotta show you some of our new songs.” Rabbit dove for the bag sitting at the foot of the couch and pulled out his melodica,  
“We’ve got some guh-great stuff.”

The Jon’s bright blue eyes went wide as he got an idea, “I know! We should tell him about the Ice Cream Parade! And the HORSE ADVENTURE!”

There was a good natured groan from the human band members, and The Spine managed to do a fairly good impression of rolling his green photo-receptors as he shrugged off his bass from where it was slung across his back. They had only brought a few instruments with them, mostly at Rabbit’s insistence, so they would have to make do with the tiny keyboard that fit in the travel bag.

Straightening, The Spine held the keyboard in one hand and nodded to his brothers, waiting for their cue.

“HEY RABBIT,” The Jon slung an arm over his oldest brother’s shoulders, “ARE YOU READY FOR THE ICE CREAM PARADE?”

“ICE CREAM PARADE?” Rabbit yelled back at the same volume, “THERE’S AN ICE CREAM PARADE?!”

“COME ON RABBIT, LET’S GO!”

How The Spine managed to stay completely deadpan through the entire song, none of them knew. Even the human members of the band, who had seen the whole routine before, were doubled over in silent laughter as Rabbit and The Jon competed to make up the most outrageous ice cream name. And that’s when The Spine stepped in with his line, “Hey guys, did I hear something about an ice cream parade?”

Rabbit looked over at him, mouth curling into an incredibly unnerving grin that stretched all the way back to his ears, “Oh no, Spine. We’re done with that now. Now we’re having a –horse adventure-“

Rabbit crowed proudly about his Pegacorn, and The Spine barely managed to keep a straight face as he sung about Sleipnir, but then they reached The Jon’s part. He managed to pull a very large (and thankfully fake) quesadilla from seemingly nowhere and caused everyone watching to loose their collective shit.

The brass bot was galloping around the room on his cheesy steed when Clint Barton walked into the middle of the chaos. The archer stared at the art deco-style robot running around the room on (was that a giant quesadilla) whooping while two other robots watched from the middle of the room (and holy shit, was that one tall. And- was it wearing pink shutter shades? What the hell?), then moved his gaze to the humans dying of laughter on the couches before settling on the most likely cause of this situation.

“TONY, what the hell did you do this time?” Because when technology and crazy was involved, it was –always- Tony’s fault.

The billionaire quirked an eyebrow and looked over at his confused teammate. He wasn’t doubled over like most of those in the room, he did have a massive grin plastered across his face, “Who says I had anything to do with this? You can blame this whole mess on our dear captain.”

“What.” Clint stared at Steve as the music stopped with the loud clatter of The Jon hitting the floor, “Steve. Explanation, please.”

The Super soldier straightened and wiped his eyes, “These are some friends of mine.” He snorted as Rabbit attempted to help pull The Jon to his feet and ended up on the ground on top of his baby brother, “This is Rabbit and his brothers The Jon and The Spine. Rabbit was part of the Howling Commando’s during the war.”

Clint frowned as he tried to figure out which part of that explanation to focus on first. “Wait, there were robots in World War Two?”

“Of course there were. Us,” Rabbit had managed to find his feet and was letting The Spine take care of putting The Jon upright, “We’re pu-pretty top secret an’ all that.” He winked.

He was starting to get a headache. Clint turned toward the strangers sitting on the couch, “And them?”

Michael and Sam dutifully introduced themselves, but Steve Negrete seemed to be stuck in a state of shock.

“A-aren’t you Hawkeye?” The sound engineer finally managed.

Clint nodded, confused as to where this was going.

The other band members groaned in understanding.

Sam waved a hand in front of Steve’s eyes to no avail, “He’s really into archery. About fainted when he saw footage of ya on the TV.”

Well that was different. He’d never had a fanboy before. Clint wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or creeped out.

“I- uh. My bow! It’s in the van. I should-“ Steve couldn’t seem to get out a full sentence as he dashed for the elevator, presumably to run out and retrieve his bow and arrows from the car.

“A-a-a-anyway,” Rabbit drew out the word as their sound man disappeared from the room, “So. Any requests?”

Steve Rogers leaned back in thought, “What about that one song you played in the bar after the rescue? The one about going home?” For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the actual title.

The others did, though.

“That’ll be the Way Home,” The Spine picked up his guitar and strummed it, then began to sing.

 

\- - - - - -

 

It had taken single-handedly rescuing an entire squadron, but Steve Rogers had finally gotten the respect from the military higher-ups he’d wanted. Captain America would be a trained monkey no longer.

The first thing that Steve had asked for was to be allowed to hand pick his own team. He needed men who would be loyal and brave to a fault, willing to put their lives on the line. And he knew just where to find them.

After the long march back to home base, the freed soldiers had gone straight for the nearest bar, and Steve could hear the drunken singing from blocks away. Just as he’d expected, they were all inside. Though they were men from all different backgrounds, and countries even, Steve knew they’d be a perfect team.

As the night ran on and everyone got more and more drunk, Steve frowned when he realized he was missing one man. Excusing himself from the party, he went out to track down the wayward soldier.

It had taken quite a bit of asking around, but Steve was finally directed to a small tent on the edge of camp. Voices drifted out from beneath the thick canvas, causing Steve to stop and listen.

“So-so-so then he puh-pulls his face r-r-right off!” That was the unmistakable glitch-y stutter of Rabbit, “A-a-and there wuh-were so many face off pu-puns I cu-cu-cu-could’ve made. Such a good chance, wuh-wasted.”

“I’m sure the Captain didn’t need to hear any of your puns,” The voice that answered was an unfamiliar deep baritone, speaking with a mix of love, patience, and exasperation, “Now shut up and hold still. Your voice box is next.”

Steve decided to make himself known and stepped into the small space, “Hello? Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

A very tall silver robot looked over at him with surprise, his hands buried in Rabbit’s innards. Another robot, this one much shorter and slimmer, sat cross legged on a box in the corner and gave the Captain a little wave and a smile. Rabbit’s brothers.

“C-cap!” Rabbit smiled even as his brother frowned at him for talking, “Guh-good ta see ya.”

“I said be quiet. I’m almost done.” Another connection was soldered into place, then the silver bot straightened with a sigh and turned to their guest, “Captain Rogers.” He gave a nod and a tip of the helmet, “Rabbit’s been talking about you non-stop since he got back. I’m his brother, The Spine.”

“And I’m The Jon,” The smallest bot in the corner leapt to his feet and shook Steve’s hand vigorously, “Are you a super hero? Rabbit said you was.”

“No, I’m not a super hero,” Steve smiled and returned the handshake, “Just a regular soldier. I’ve come to talk with Rabbit about something.”

Rabbit looked at him in surprise, but his voice box was still recalibrating after being repaired. It’d be a few minutes before he’d be able to talk again.

“About what?” The Spine asked for his brother, closing up Rabbit’s chest plates and allowing the smaller bot to pull his uniform back on.

“I’m putting together a team for covert, high risk missions. I need soldiers who I can trust. And I’d like you on that team.”

The Spine exchanged a glance with his brother, a message passing between their shared wireless connection, “Captain Rogers, we are currently owned by the United States Government. My brothers and I can only go where we’re ordered.”

They were –owned-? Like some common machines? Steve shook his head, “Well I’ve been given permission to have anyone on my team that I want, no questions asked. If I can have members of the French and British army, I can have you. I just want to know if you’re up for it.”

Rabbit cleared his throat, testing out his repaired voice box, “Do you think the o-others are willing to work with a robot?”

“If they aren’t, then they aren’t on the team.”

“Wuh-what about my brothers?”

The Spine shook his head, “Sorry, Rabbit. I’ve got to go back to the Navy tomorrow, and The Jon is needed with the Air Corps.” He switched to their internal wireless tele-graph, ‘I think the Captain is a good man, though. I trust your judgement.’ The Spine didn’t mention it, but he worried about his oldest brother. He and The Jon had managed to form a sort of, if not comadarie, then at least an understanding with the men in their units. Rabbit, though, was constantly being thrown headlong into battle by the higher ups without concern for his safety. Like he was just a thoughtless weapon.

“Well, Cuh-Captain, I think you’ve found your bot,” Rabbit slipped off the table and saluted, “What do you want me to do?”

“I did notice that a certain someone was missing from the celebrations. I know you probably can’t have booze, but it would be a great way to meet the men.”

The brothers exchanged worried looks. “I don’t know, Captain Rogers. A bar full of drunken soldiers is not the most hospitable environment.”

Steve wasn’t about to be swayed, though. Rabbit couldn’t isolate himself from everyone if they wanted this team to work. And hadn’t Rabbit mentioned he and his brothers had been built as musicians?

The party hadn’t calmed down any when the group arrived at the bar. Dum Dum, Jim, and all the others were still seated at the same table, though they had managed to get considerably drunker and louder.

“Captain!” Dum Dum yelled with a grin, sloshing his beer all over the table, “I see ya came back ta join the party,” The big man’s face fell slightly when he saw who was with the other soldier, “What’re the tin men doin’ here?”

“Rabbit,” Steve emphasized the name as he pushed the bot forwards, “Is the final member of the team.”

A surprised murmur ran through the group, but it was a sign of the faith that they had in their Captain that no one protested the decision further. Heartened by this, Rabbit pulled up a chair and sat down in it backwards, leaning over the back to peer at Dum Dum Dugan.

“So, Dum Dum. I-I’ve been wondering. How’d ya get tha’ name? Was it yer looks, or yer wuh-winning personality?” Rabbit asked with the most innocent expression.

The entire table roared with laughter as the large man sputtered indignantly, taken aback at being teased by a robot.

“Probably the same way you got your name, Rabbit,” The Spine leaned over the table with the air of a parent intent on telling an embarrassing baby story, “You see, when Rabbit here first came online, the only word he could say was ‘Rabbit’ over and over and over. Our father tried for hours to get him to say something, anything, else.”

“HEY,” Rabbit cried, indignant, “It’s better than you-your, uh, -back-story, Spine.”

It wasn’t really that funny, but alcohol has a way of making everything hilarious. Within moments, Rabbit was involved in a rapid-fire French conversation with Jacques and Gabe, while The Spine wandered over to the bar to try and convince The Jon that no, he really did not need to try alcohol.

There was a loud yell and clatter of piano keys from the far corner of the bar as the piano player became too drunk to sit upright anymore. Someone hauled him off somewhere to sober up as the soldiers nearby loudly protested the sudden lack of music.

Steve sidled over to the bar, where the harried owner was trying in vain to calm the increasingly angry crowd, “Do you have any other musical instruments?”

“There are a few up on the bandstand,” The owner didn’t even look to see who was talking, “At least there were.”

“Hey Spine,”

The tall silver robot was standing in a corner with his arms wrapped around his youngest brother, trying to keep The Jon from joining the “party.” “Yes, Captain? What is it?”

“You and your brothers are musicians, right?” Steve didn’t wait for an answer as he tugged the two towards the small band stage in the  
corner, “RABBIT. You too, get over here.”

“I’m not so sure about this, Captain Rogers,” They hadn’t played music for an audience in several years, and this didn’t look like the most receptive audience. The Spine really didn’t feel like having things thrown and yelled at him tonight.

The room quieted as the three robots stepped up onto the stage. The Spine sat down at the piano, while The Jon picked up a sad, battered guitar. Rabbit stood out front. The oldest bot wasn’t quite dexterous enough to handle a stringed instrument, and The Spine was always better at the piano, so he usually sung if an accordian wasn’t available.

They looked out over the room of rowdy soldiers, so different from the crowds they usually played to. Steve stood at the corner of the stage, arms folded; daring someone, anyone, to make a disparaging comment.

‘So, uh, what do we play?’ Rabbit sent over their wireless telegraph nervously.

‘What about that new song we’ve been working on?’ The Jon suggested. In their rare down time, the three often spent their time working on music. Recently, they’d been putting together a tune based on several members of their units.

‘Might as well,’ The Spine played a chord and hummed to get the right pitch, then began to sing. The other’s quickly joined in, their combined voices easily eclipsing the din of the bar.

“A man takes off from an airfield, and he’s soarin’ very far from home  
Because he flies a B-17 straight through the sky.”

Every eye in the bar had turned to the musicians onstage. The sheer emotion in the bot’s voices was the last thing anyone had expected to come out of the automatons.

“Well, that’ll-that’ll-that’ll, that’ll be the way home.  
Straight through the sky, headed towards her blue eyes.”

As they finished the song the three bots powered down. Everyone watched in silence as they rebooted, then the claps and cheering started. The applause brought back something that Rabbit had missed after all these years of war.

“Th-thank you, you lovely audience,” Rabbit’s voice rang out over the din in the bar, “And welcome to a vuh-very special one-night only performance of the Steam Man Band. Anybody have any requests?”


	4. Almost Human

A slightly shorter chapter this time, with less humor and more feels. (Sorry the first part was so short, I was having a terrible time writing Tony D: )

 

Things quickly calmed down after the Horse Adventure, with The Jon and Rabbit sitting near Steve on the couch regaling him with tales of their various misadventures of the past 70 years.

Steve Negrete had come running back upstairs, bow and arrows in hand, and had disappeared off with Clint somewhere; presumably they were in the training room perforating helpless stuffed animals. Michael, meanwhile, was pestering Tony in the hopes of seeing the genius’ lab (and by extension the Iron Man suit. SO COOL). The billionaire relented after about 10 minutes of bothering, mainly because Michael had mentioned that he was the primary mechanic for the robot band.

To their surprise, The Spine elected to come with them as well. Michael wasn’t sure if the automaton really wanted to see the lab, or if he just wanted to get away from his brothers; who were currently regaling the Captain with stories of the time they had stolen The Spine’s head and played football with him.

As they made their way down to the labs, Tony watched every move that The Spine made with a critical eye. It was starting to creep the Automaton out, “Is there something you need, Mr. Stark?”

“How long has it been since you were upgraded?” Tony was blunt, as always, “I mean really. Who runs off of –steam- power, of all things. I can think of a hundred ways to make you much more efficient.”

The Spine frowned, “Thank you for the offer Mr. Stark, but my brothers and I have no interest in changing. Our father built us this way, and it’s worked just fine for over a century.”

“Your father?” Tony scoffed, “Did Colonel Walter really program you to call him that?”

There was a creak as The Spine’s hands clenched at his sides, “No, he didn’t. Rabbit called him Pappy, and The Jon referred to him as Daddy. I’ve always been a little more formal than them though.”

“Must’ve been a hell of a lonely guy to build AI’s and program them to think he was their daddy,” Tony mused, continuing on as if he hadn’t even heard The Spine. “What, he couldn’t get a girl?”

Michael considered himself a fairly easy-going guy, and rarely got angry, but Stark was really beginning to piss him off. And the worst part was that he was saying this to The Spine, the one automaton that internalized so much of his guilt that he would never talk back against this sort of thing.

“Hey. You shut up,” The One Man Band couldn’t take it any more, “You can’t just talk about them like they’re machines, Spine and his brothers have feelings like anybody else. Come on, Spine. Let’s go back up to the Captain.”

The Spine didn’t resist as Michael grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him back to the elevators, leaving Tony standing in the hallway. The tall automaton was silent all the way back up to the living room, where he sat down on an empty couch and stared at his hands, green  
photoreceptors distant.

“Spine? What’s up?” Sam frowned and moved to sit by his friend, “Did something happen?”

“What happened,” Michael was so angry it took him a moment to find the words, “What happened is that asshole Stark was talking about The Spine and his brothers like they were just playthings that Colonel Walter built because he was lonely. That arrogant dickhead!”

Conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at The Spine, who hadn’t moved or spoken.

“Tony is. . . not the most tactful of people,” Steve was going to have to have a talk with his teammate later, “He’s brilliant, but that doesn’t translate into having good people skills. Or any people skills at all.” The Captain laid a hand on The Spine’s shoulder, “You and I both know he’s wrong.”

The Spine took a deep (unneeded) breath, “Thank you, Captain.”

“Of course.” Steve knew better than most that the brothers could feel emotions just as keenly as any human.

\- - - - - -

It was, for once, a surprisingly calm morning. Steve sat beside the gently smoldering campfire and watched the sun rise while the other men around him slept. They had completed their mission, and were now about half a day’s walk from home base. The team was taking the opportunity to actually have some down time, and had three days leave coming up as soon as they got back.  
Steve tensed and reached for his gun when something behind him shifted, then he relaxed when he realized it was only Bucky climbing out of his bedroll.

“Do you even sleep?” The young man slumped to the ground next to his friend, running a hand through his mussy hair.

“I’m just excited to get back to the base,” Steve picked up a piece of the firewood they had cut the night before and tossed it on the fire, hoping to get it warmed up a little so he could cook breakfast, “I’ve only been up for a little bit.”

“You mean you’re excited to see Agent Carter,” Bucky gave his best friend a good natured shove, then sighed and looked around at their snoozing team, “I only woke up cause I heard you moving around. Hell, even Rabbit’s still asleep.”

The two men looked over to where the automaton sat slumped against a tree, completely powered down. It was always a little eerie to see the normally animated bot so silent and still. Unlike a human, Rabbit did not breathe or twitch in his “sleep.” The only sounds where the soft tick of clockwork and the occasional hiss of steam from his boiler.

Usually, Rabbit was the last one to power down and the first one up since he didn’t need to recharge quite as long as humans did; though all of the men had been shown how to start him up manually in case of an emergency during the night. Now, though, the bot sat with his chin touching his chest, hat pulled low over his dark eyes.

Bucky got up and crouched in front of his silent teammate, putting up a hand to feel the warm steam that puffed from his cheeks, “Really reminds you that he ain’t human, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes at the sight of Bucky using Rabbit as a hand warmer (something they were all guilty of doing at least once when they were sent out to colder locales), “Might want to get away from there, I think he’s starting up.”

There was a sudden burst of steam and Bucky jumped back, falling on his butt as Rabbit’s chassis shifted. The slow clockwork tic became a steady hum as the bot’s systems powered up, his limbs twitching at the occasional misfire. He would need some maintenance when they got back to base.

After a few moments his eyes flickered on and Rabbit raised his head, looking between the two men staring at him with an amused expression, “Wuh-what? Did someone draw on my face while I was out?”

“Nah, you’re just as ugly as always, tin-man,” Bucky snorted and climbed to his feet, then held out a hand to help his teammate. Rabbit, in a rare moment of forethought, ignored the offered hand and stood on his own. People were always forgetting just how heavy he was.

The smell of Steve cooking breakfast brought the other men out of their bedrolls several minutes later, then the team headed out.

They made good time, and arrived at the base before the end of the day. Most of the team dumped their stuff in their tent and headed straight the bar, intending to drink and party the night away. When Steve returned from delivering his mission report, he was unsurprised to find that Rabbit was the only one left at camp.

“Waiting for me?” Steve asked as he entered their tent, intent on changing out of his dirty uniform and into something clean.

“Well it’s no fun bein’ the only sober puh-person at th’ party,” Rabbit had removed his shirt and was carefully oiling his elbow joints.  
Steve chuckled. The inability to get drunk was one of the downsides of the super solider serum; it meant he was always the one picking up the tab and dragging home inebriated soldiers barely capable of walking in a straight line. “We’ll head over in a couple of hours and clean up after them.”

Rabbit huffed steam in a sigh as he moved on to his fingers, testing the dexterity of each joint. For a few moments, the only sound in the tent was the creaking and humming of Rabbit’s systems. Then the tent flap opened and a very young looking soldier with a large mail bag peeked in.

“Oh, sorry sirs,” The young man stammered when he realized that both men in the tent were shirtless and looking at him with bemused expressions, “But I have mail here for Rabbit?” He said the name hesitantly, unsure if that was right.

“Th-th-that’s me,” Rabbit hopped off his bunk and plucked the letter out of the very surprised private’s hands, “Thanks.”

“Right. Uh, no. No problem.” The mail boy vanished quickly as he came.

“Letter from home?” Steve stripped off his filthy pants and dug around in his trunk for a fresh pair.

“Yuh-yeah. I dunno who’d be writin,’ though.” Rabbit’s sharp fingers deftly opened the envelope and he unfolded the letter inside. He only made it through a few lines when a burst of static emitted from his vocalizer and he fell over onto his bunk with a thump.

“Rabbit?” Steve quickly tugged on his pants and threw on a t-shirt, “Are you okay? What’s the letter say?”

The bot could only shake his head, clutching the letter to his chest. Steam came out in quick bursts, sounding for all the world like helpless sobs as black oil ran from his eyes and stained his faceplate.

Steve was concerned. He’d never seen this kind of reaction from Rabbit, not even after the bot had nearly had his legs blown off. He sat down next to the other soldier and carefully extracted the letter from his hands.

It was a form letter, announcing the death of Colonel Peter A. Walter the First, aged 78. Below the death announcement was some legal jargon about ownership of Rabbit and his brothers transferring to Peter Walter the 2nd and 3rd. Steve looked up from the letter to the stricken face of his comrade, feeling his heart tear. Rabbit had spent long hours telling them all about his Pappy, voice full of love and adoration. Steve had lost both parents, and he could still barely imagine the pain the automaton was going through.

Wordlessly, Steve put an arm around Rabbit’s shoulders and pulled him close. The super soldier wasn’t much for words of comfort, but he could at least keep his friend company as he grieved the loss of his father.

Rabbit’s voice box continued to spit static as he curled his fingers in the fabric of Steve’s shirt and cried.

\- - - - - - -


	5. Team

Even visits from old friends could not go on forever, and eventually the band had to take their leave and go back to their hotel for the night. 

Steve was surprised at how refreshed he felt after their visit. It had been so great to just sit and talk with people who had known him –before-. He didn’t have to pretend to be the stoic Captain America that everyone expected of him. So many people now seemed to think they knew everything about him because they had read some biography or another, but Rabbit and his brothers knew because they were –there.-

After lunch, Steve rounded up everyone to get ready for the concert. Bruce had declined the invitation, as he was understandably worried about being in a large crowd, but Tony, Clint, and Natasha had all been talked into coming along. 

When they reached the theatre, Steve was surprised by how many people were already lining up at the doors. Much of the fanbase seemed to be young people in their late teens and early twenties, though there were some in the lineup much older than that, and good portion of the fans were dressed up in costume or facepaint. 

Clint let out a whistle, “That’s a lot of fangirls. You sure they aren’t boy band?”

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, so he declined to respond, “Should we just go in?”

They were trying to decide whether to join the line or try and find another entrance when someone yelled out Steve’s name. 

“Hey guys! Glad I found you,” Steve Negrete was jogging towards them, a camera phone held in one hand and a doll in the other, “The guys sent me out to get you.”

“Is that a doll of you?” Clint greeted his archery buddy with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yeah, this is ‘Lil Steve.” The sound engineer held out the doll, which really did bear a striking resemblance to its namesake. 

Then the doll spoke, “Yeah, that’s right. I’m ‘Lil Steve, the awesome member of Steam Powered Giraffe.”

Jaws dropped. 

“Did your doll just talk?” Clint leaned forward to poke at the little yarn creation, who protested the treatment loudly.

“Uh, yeah. He does that,” Steve put a hand over ‘Lil Steve’s mouth, muffling the yelling, “We think he came into contact with purple matter when Michael was working on his banjo. We’re uh, we’re really not sure. Weird stuff just happens.”

The group of heroes were dubious, but decided not to push the matter any further. The Sound Engineer led them around to a back entrance to the theatre, ‘Lil Steve narrating the adventure into the cell phone camera.

In the back of the large building there was a small stage side door, which opened into the green room. There the rest of the band was gathered, idly strumming instruments and waiting for the stage to finish getting set up. 

“Oh hey, guys. Looks like Steve found ya alright,” Michael set down his banjo and held the door open for their sound engineer, who had his hands full, “Welcome to the green room. We saved the best front row seats for ya.”

“And backstage passes too, obviously,” Steve Negrete grinned, “Welp, I gotta duck back outside. ‘Lil Steve needs to greet his adoring fans.”

“Darn straight!” The doll asserted as the two ducked back outside, the door closing behind them with a thump.

“Sorry we forgot to warn you about ‘Lil Steve,” The Spine looked rather apologetic as he placed his bass on their instrument stand, “He’s a bit . . . weird.”

“Along with everything else here,” Clint muttered under his breath, gunted when he was elbowed rather sharply by Natasha. 

“That’s nothing,” Steve Rogers reassured his friends, “I’ve seen stranger things. Like when Tony installed an AI in our toaster.”

“I was drunk!” Tony protested. The others ignored him. 

Rabbit, meanwhile, seemed very interested in the turn of conversation, “An AI toaster you say?”

His fellow band members didn’t even look up as they gave a resounding “NO”

The copper automaton managed to pout for all of two seconds before he was distracted. “You should see what happens when The Jon hiccups.” He grinned at the memories. 

The Jon laughed from where he was trying to tune his mandolin and eat a grilled cheese sandwhich at the same time. To no one’s surprise, he wasn’t succeeding particularly well at either. 

“Anyway,” Sam glanced at his wristwatch, “They’re about to open the doors, so you all should probably get to your seats. You don’t want to try and fight the crowd.”

“You have . . . quite the group of fans out there,” Steve commented. He’d seen some large crowds gather for popular bands back in his day, but nothing quite like the fans waiting outside to get into the concert. He’d certainly never seen fans don robot make up before. 

“They’re great,” The Jon smiled, “They draw us and send us gifts. They really like us.”

“I like it when they send us food,” Michael stated, “And there’s some pretty awesome art of me floating around.”

“Someone gave me a toaster once,” It was a fond memory for Rabbit, “I gave her a front row seat f-f-for our show.”

“Then you set it on fire a month later,” The Spine muttered. It was just loud enough to garner a glare from his older brother. 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh as they bickered. It seemed his friends had finally found something they could be happy doing, with people who really cared about them. He thought about the men that, for him, he had been with only months before, “I wish Bucky could see this.”

It was said softly, but Rabbit heard anyway. The bot’s expression sobered as he looked down, reminded of the people they had lost to time. 

 

\- - - - - 

 

The mountaintop was freezing as the Commando’s hunkered down, waiting for the HYDRA train to reach the mountain pass. Rabbit had hooked up to their radio receiver and hacked HYDRA’s frequency, translating the harried German for the other men. 

“They’re almost here!” Rabbit called out, “Get ready to go.”

“Alright, we’re gonna have about a 10 second window,” Steve swung his handles over the taut steel zip line, “Miss it, and you’re bugs on a windshield.”

Rabbit watched as his comrades jumped one by one, still hooked up to the radio receiver. He was too heavy for the zip line, and would be stuck listening to the radio transmissions while waiting for the others to come back. With a sigh, Rabbit hefted the radio receiver and headed for the rendezvous point. 

 

The news of Bucky’s death was a hard blow to the entire team. They all knew that this was a war, and that any of them could go at any time, but the loss of the bright and cheerful young man from New York had hit all of them hard. And it had hit their Captain hardest of all. 

Each member of the unit dealt with their grief in their own way, most through copious amounts of alcohol and crowded bars. Rabbit, though, didn’t have the ability to get drunk and never found much enjoyment in overflowing bars. Especially without his brothers.

Leaving base camp, Rabbit picked through the rubble of what had been a small town the month before. He had a sneaking suspicion he knew where Steve Rogers had hidden himself away to try and mourne alone. 

Sure enough, the young Captain sat alone at the only intact table inside the bar where the Commando’s had first gathered. Now it was a shell of it’s former vitality, with only a few torn posters to prove it had once been occupied. 

Steve looked up from his bottle when Rabbit stepped in through the doorway, his steps loud and metallic. No words were exchanged as the automaton pulled up a chair and sat down next to his Captain. Nothing needed to be said. 

As Steve buried his face in his hands, trying very hard to keep from falling to pieces, Rabbit grabbed the bottle of alcohol and took a long swig. Even if it didn’t have an effect on either of them, a man still shouldn’t have to drink alone. 

When the bottle was exhausted and Steve went to hunt for another, Rabbit began to softly sing. Nothing with meaning, just some of the silly nonsense songs that The Jon liked to write. The sound of his voice filled the silence, chasing away the demons that haunted both soldiers. 

 

Three bottles later Agent Carter finally found them, looking between the two with an air of disapproval. Rabbit let his voice trail off and stood, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder, “I’ll g-g-g-go look after the men.” The Captain needed human comfort, something the robot could not give. 

As he walked out, Rabbit desperately wished his brothers were there. They always knew the right thing to say.


	6. Malfunction

Because someone requested the Malfunction. 

 

 

The screams of the crowd were almost deafening as the bots stepped out onto the stage, movements slow and deliberate. They were playing up the jerky, robotic motions, Steve was sure, but the fans were eating it up. 

Then the music started and everyone was swept away in it. And it wasn’t just music, it was an –experience.- Steve felt like he was back watching on old Vaudeville show, with humor and skits. With some satisfaction, Steve noted that even Tony seemed impressed by the show.

The first set flew by and the band decided to end on a high note. Rabbit whipped the cover off of his accordion and hefted it, “Oh children of ours, gather around. Just pull up a seat, and sit on the ground. For I know a story, and I’ll tell it well. Of a man named Mr. McGomely. And how he fell.”

Rabbit looked out over the audience, “One moonlit night,” His eyes met Steve’s as the thunder crashed and everything abruptly went dark. 

A murmur ran through the audience when the song did not continue, everyone waiting on the edge of their seats for the first note of the popular tune. For a moment, the only light was from the band’s photoreceptors, then suddenly red stage lights flickered on and static crackled from the speakers. 

Steam hissed from the automatons on stage as their bodies jerked awkwardly, and the sound of muffled gunfire and screaming emitted from the malfunctioning stage speakers. 

“What’s going on?” Tony hissed to his teammate, seeking explanation. The bots had almost frequent minor malfunctions during their act, but nothing on this scale. 

Elephants trumpted in the distance as The Jon screamed, “NO! Hatchy! He-help me!”

Steve’s eyes widened, “They’re having a flashback. To the war.”

The rest of the audience gasped as The Spine threw his head back in a silent cry, electricity sparking up his arm. 

Steve’s hands splintered the arms on his chair as his fists clenched, desperately wanting to jump onstage and help his friends. But Sam and Michael were already up and working to fix the problem. The human members of the band hit the emergency shut down on their friends and everything went dark once more. 

“Well,” Steve Negerete’s voice echoed through the speakers from his place in the booth, “Sorry about that folks, little technical difficulties. It’s time for intermission, so go and have some snacks and drinks and come back in half an hour for the next set!”

The house lights went up, bathing the room in light as Michael and Sam carefully hustled their robot friends off the stage and into the greenroom. 

“Can robots even get PTSD?” Clint muttered to Natasha. Steve overheard, though, and frowned at his teammate. 

“Their memories don’t fade over time. And they fought in two wars before they even joined World War Two. They’ve been through hell more than once.”

 

\- - - - - 

 

The Howling Commandos had lost some of their humor after the loss of Bucky, but his death had only fueled their drive to take down HYDRA once and for all. 

They were advancing on a base, the men silent and stealthy as they slipped through the trees. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, casting the forest into dark shadow. Steve could just barely make out the shapes of his men, and even the bright glow of Rabbit’s optics had been dimmed as far as they could go. The only sound was the soft crinkle of leaves and the occasional hiss of steam. 

Steve halted when he heard a rustle that did not belong to his men, holding up a hand as a warning. They waited, completely still as Steve shifted his shield, trying to pinpoint the location of the enemy. 

There was a sudden yell as Rabbit dove in front of the others, an explosion throwing them all backwards at almost the same moment. Steve tumbled backwards and immediately popped back onto his feet, hurling his shield off into the trees. It met it’s mark and the HYDRA soldier fell where he stood, though none of the Commando’s could hear the sound through the ringing of their ears from the grenade. 

“Is everyone okay?” Steve caught his shield on the rebound and slung it back over his shoulder. An affirmative ran through the men, then they turned to see Rabbit, who had caught the brunt of the blast. 

The automaton was lying motionless on the forest floor, his right arm nearly blown completely off. His uniform hung in tatters as oil slowly soaked the leaf litter. 

“Rabbit!” Steve knelt next to the offline bot, quickly ripping off the remainder of Rabbit’s uniform and opening his chest. To the super soldier’s relief, the bot’s blue matter core was still whirling strongly, boiler bubbling softly. He would be alright, but the arm was beyond the team’s ability to repair. They’d have to get him back to base and call in The Spine. 

Jim Morita had joined his Captain and was deftly tying off the leaking oil lines when Rabbit suddenly jerked, his good arm flailing wildly. Steve quickly caught the errant arm before Jim could be hurt and held down Rabbit’s torso as the bot’s systems came online. 

Normally when he came back online, even when hurt, Rabbit had a joke or terrible pun to make before insisting he was just fine and trying to bat them away. This time, though, when his eyes lit up they were unfocused; looking off into the distance without seeing anything. 

Static crackled from Rabbit’s voice box as he began to struggle, voice crying out brokenly, “JON. HATCHY. I can-can-can-can’t. To-to-to-too many elephants! There’s to-too many!”

His voice echoed through the forest, threatening to bring down the rest of the HYDRA army on top of them. “Come on, Rabbit. Calm down. There’s no elephants. You’re fine.” Steve grabbed Rabbit’s head and tried to force the wounded bot to look at him to no avail. 

“NO! Spine, don-don-don’t look. Thuh- there’s people inside! PAPPY. Hel-help me!”

He had no choice. Steve reached around Rabbit’s neck and felt for his manual shut off switch. Hopefully a reboot would knock the bot out of whatever loop he had been stuck in. 

Everyone was silent and guarded as Rabbit’s systems powered down, his body growing still once more. 

“Bloody Hell.” James was staring at them, feeling incredibly unnerved, “What was that?”

Steve sighed. He had read the files on Rabbit and his brothers and gleaned a little information on their past, though much of it was classified beyond even his access. “When they were first built, Rabbit and his brothers were sent to war against a crazed inventor with an army of mechanical elephants. There were a lot of casualties. The man used something called green matter to fuse people into the war elephants, turning them into half-mechanical corpses under his control.”

A shudder ran through the group as Steve hit the switches to turn Rabbit back on. This time his systems started up with a smooth hum, optics focusing easily on the face of his Captain above him, “Unh. What hap-happened?”

“You jumped on top of a grenade is what happened,” Steve used a scrap of fabric to tie the bot’s useless arm tightly to his body, then hefted Rabbit to his feet despite his protests, “Come on. We’re going back to base.”

Rabbit was unusually compliant as Steve slipped an arm around his back and they started to walk. His audio receptors had been damaged by the blast, the static-y hiss reminding him off the whirr of his buzzsaw and the crackle of a Tesla coil projector. 

 

\- - - - --


	7. Hurt

As the audience made their way out into the lobby of the theatre for snacks, Steve sent the rest of his team for drinks and made his way back into the green room. 

The bots were sitting with their shirts off to give Michael access to their cores, sipping water from their water bottles idly. Sam was sitting quietly off to the side while Michael worked on The Spine. 

“Are you guys okay?” Steve spoke softly, not wanting to disrupt the solemn atmosphere of the room. 

“Sure, sure,” Rabbit grinned unconvincingly, “Just a minor malfunction. Happens when you-you-you’re as old as us.”

Steve leveled him with a distinctly unamused look and Rabbit’s smile drooped. 

“It was the thunder,” The Jon’s voice was soft as Michael moved onto his systems, “It sounded like mortars.”

“We can take out that sound clip,” Sam suggested, feeling distinctly useless as he sat and watched Michael work. 

“No, it’s fine,” The Spine pulled his shirt back on and began doing up the buttons, “Meeting with Captain Rogers just brought back some memories. It won’t happen again.”

“”Quite right,” Rabbit stood, his suspenders flapping around his knees as he made shooing motions with his hands, “Now come on, Cap. Don’t cha know this is a performers only area? G-go get some of them hotdogs or whatever they sell at concessions booths.”

“If you’re sure,” Steve didn’t really want to leave, but knew he wasn’t doing any good sticking around.

 

True to their word, the second set of the night went off without a hitch and only malfunction was Rabbit’s traditional one in the middle of Honeybee. The audience didn’t seem fazed at all by what had happened earlier, and everyone cheered and sang along when the show ended with Brass Goggles. 

The house lights came up and the audience began to file out, heading for the lobby to line up for autographs and a chance to meet the band. 

“They really do autograph sessions after the show?” Tony was incredulous. He hadn’t willingly done an autograph session in years (unless there happened to be scantily clad women and alcohol involved, of course).

Steve looked at all the of the fans standing patiently in line, clutching cameras and items to have signed, “They’ve got some really dedicated fans.” 

“Well, Spangles. If you want to wait around for them to finish, fine by me,” Tony stretched and popped his back, “But I think we’re gonna head home.”

“Okay. I’ll see you back at the tower.”

Tony, Clint, and Natasha had taken three steps towards the theatre’s doors when the back wall blew in with a massive boom.

People screamed and ducked for cover as plaster flew everywhere, a dust cloud rising so thick they could barely see through it. Steve instantly went into motion, “Tony! Clint! Get everyone to safety. Natasha, you come with me.” Because he knew that Tony was unarmed and Clint, for once, hadn’t brought his bow and quiver. Natasha, though, was always armed with a small arsenal. He cursed his decision to leave his shield at home, even though the thing was almost impossible to carry around without attracting attention. 

The band had moved quickly as well, with the robots shielding the civilians nearest to them. As the dust began to settle, Michael and Sam quickly hustled people towards the exits. 

Men dressed in odd yellow jumpsuits with large, square helmets had begun to flood in through the new hole in the building, wielding energy weapons that made the old Hydra guns look like water pistols. 

“Any idea what we’re up against?” Steve tore a gun from the nearest man’s hands and knocked him out with a vicious uppercut. Clearly, they were trying to make up for lack of skill with numbers. 

“AIM,” Natasha had strapped on her Widow’s Sting wrist blasters and was efficiently mowing down the enemy, but more kept pouring in, “They’re a group of scientists who prefer to steal their technology than build it.”

“Well what are they doing here?” The gun was surprisingly simple and Steve had turned out to be a quick study as he took down the men still coming in through the hole. If they were technology thieves, then why had they bothered to invade a concert?

That question was answered as a man stepped forward, dressed in a rather official looking version of the yellow beekeeper suit, “Tony Stark! AIM has come for you and your metal men. Give up quietly, you have no hope against our might.”

There was a silence as everyone turned to look at the Walter bots, who were watching the battle with horrified expressions. 

“WE WERE NOT BUILT BY TONY STARK!” Rabbit recovered enough to yell indignantly, rather pissed off that someone had thought he and his brothers had been created by some arrogant playboy. 

He was completely ignored by all parties. 

Steve cried out when a shot winged him, taking off the sleeve of his shirt and leaving a nasty burn on his bicep. 

“Cap!” Rabbit and his brothers had been backed into a corner by AIM soldiers. Michael was swinging his banjo wildly and doing a surprisingly good job at keeping the enemy (who didn’t seem to want to use their energy weapons near their target) at bay. Steve Negrete had joined the fray unnoticed and gotten his bow to Clint, who was now perched up at the top of the lobby’s staircase and taking out AIM soldier’s one by one. The Sound Engineer himself was a whirl of dreadlocks and fists as he took down men a couple at a time. 

Even with every available person fighting, though, AIM was pushing them back by sheer numbers. Steve managed to clear a path to get to The Spine, Rabbit, and The Jon, wielding his stolen gun and hoping it wouldn’t run out of charge, “Get out of here and get to the Tower! We’ll cover your escape.” 

“No.” The Spine stepped forward, rolling up the left sleeve of his shirt. Electricity was arcing up his arm as he activated his tesla coil projector for the first time in over fifty years, “I’m not about to let people get hurt because of us. There’s too many of them for you to beat alone.”

Steve’s eyes widened. They’d told him about the vow of peace they had downloaded. It was something that could only be rewritten under the direst of circumstances, and wouldn’t be easy on them. But now wasn’t the time to argue about it. If they wanted to help, there was little he could do to stop them. 

The Spine, meanwhile, was trying to calculate the exact charge to use to knock out the AIM soldiers without killing them. It had been a long time since he’d used his weapon, but it wasn’t the kind of things he could forget. 

Rabbit was guarding The Jon, who hadn’t kept any of his weapons after Vietnam, keeping the enemy from his brother with his flame thrower. Several AIM men threw themselves to the ground as their jumpsuits caught fire, but Rabbit had a limited fuel supply for the weapon and couldn’t keep it up forever. 

“Stand back, everyone.” The Spine drew himself up to his (very impressive) full height and waded into the middle of the fray. 

He was immediately dog piled by AIM soldiers intent on dragging him back to their as of yet unseen transport. Lightning arced through the air and those nearest to him convulsed before falling limply to the ground. 

Steve’s eyes widened. He’d never actually seen The Spine in action. The silver automaton was deadly serious as he raised his arm. Electricity crackled in blue bolts from long spurs that extended from his lower arm then shot out in an arc that brought down another group of men. 

“Holy crap,” Clint joined Steve safely out of the way of the line of fire, having exhausted his supply of arrows, “Can they all do that?”

“No, just him.”

There was a familiar high pitched whine and Steve turned to see the Iron Man armor crash through the front doors of the theatre. A few seconds later Tony was alongside them, easily taking down AIM troops with his repulsors.

Faced with Iron Man and The Spine’s unexpectedly impressive weaponry, the head AIM scientist clearly decided it was time to cut their losses and make a hasty exit. Soon all that was left was unconscious and otherwise incapacitated jumpsuited men scattered across the floor, all of the men able to move had exited quickly back out the hole they had come in through. 

“Is everybody okay?” Steve looked around the lobby to see who was still upright. 

The Jon was shaking so hard his wig threatened to come off, but seemed to be otherwise alright. Natasha was a bit bruised and Sam was wheezing from a hard hit to the gut, while Rabbit was fussing over Steve Negrete, who had broken his hand on one of the AIM troop’s helmets. 

In the center of the room electricity still arced over The Spine’s form as he powered down his Tesla coil gun, preventing anyone from getting close. As they watched, the tall bot wavered unsteadily on his feet before toppling over backwards, his systems going quiet. 

“SPINE,” Rabbit rushed over with Michael quick on his heels. 

“He knew this would happen,” The One Man Band hovered a hand over The Spine’s body and winced when he was zapped, “That Tesla coil hadn’t been used in years and he’s not as well insulated against it as he used to be.”

“What do we need to do?” Steve knelt next to the others waiting for the electrical charge to dissipate so they could touch the offline automaton. 

“What I need is to take him back to my workshop, but that’s all the way in San Diego.” Michael cursed, “This would happen when we’re all the way on the other side of the country.”

“You can use my workshop,” Tony’s footsteps were heavy as he walked over to them and effortlessly lifted The Spine into his arms, “I’ll see you back at the Tower.” And with that he took off. 

It was then that the police finally showed up, having received calls from every audience member who had a cell phone. The police chief gingerly stepped in through the shattered doors and looked around at the destruction before leveling his gaze on Steve, “Captain Rogers. What the hell happened here?”

Steve groaned. He desperately wanted to go with the others back to the Tower and make sure The Spine would be okay, but he also knew he couldn’t trust any of his team to talk with the police. Michael seemed like a good guy, though, and The Spine had weathered worse than this. They would all be okay. 

 

\- - - - - 

 

With a group that pulled the kind of dangerous, insane stunts that the Howling Commandos did, injuries were commonplace. It wasn’t unusual for all of them to report to the medical tent after a mission for one thing or another. Their robotic member wasn’t immune either, though obviously his wounds couldn’t heal on their own. 

Minor things, like sticking joints and mis-aligned gears, Rabbit usually handled himself and the other Commandos had all gained a decent understanding of his systems as a necessity. Just in case something went wrong that Rabbit couldn’t reach. And if things really went pear shaped, then The Spine would be called in to repair his brother. 

It was just the way things were. Rabbit would get too injured for them to repair, then someone would call the Navy and The Spine would come in to fix up his older, more irresponsible brother. 

Then one day it was Rabbit who was called in. They had just completed an op and were headed back home when the news came in. The ship The Spine was on had been sunk by German U-boats. A group of soldiers on board had managed to get The Spine on a lifeboat and to safety, but the bot was in bad shape. 

When they got back to base, it turned out that The Spine had been shipped to them in a crate. Rabbit was apoplectic when his brother was unpacked, and Steve had some very strong words for everyone involved in that spectacularly poor decision. 

Rabbit calmed down quickly, though, when he realized just how bad of shape The Spine was in. With Steve’s help, they carried the titanium alloy bot into their usual repair tent and settled him onto the sturdy table within. 

“Is he going to be all right?” Steve didn’t know much about their physiology, but even an untrained eye could tell the damage was bad. 

The Spine’s chest cavity had been ripped open, revealing his inner workings to the world, and his right arm and leg had both been severed. The silver limbs lay brokenly on the table next to their owner. The only ray of hope was that his blue matter core was still glowing, albeit with less strength than usual. 

“Sure, sure,” Rabbit didn’t seem convinced by his words as he got to work cleaning out his brother’s chest cavity of oil and grease, “Spine’s strong, he’ll be fine. He’s always fine.”

 

Steve sat in the tent as Rabbit worked, silent company for the stressful time. After several hours Steve began to recognize the early signs of misfires in the robot’s limbs, the effect of being powered on too long under emotional duress, and he struck up idle conversation to help keep Rabbit from focusing too much on the gravity of the situation. It would do no one any good if Rabbit broke down into hysterics while trying to fix his brother. 

But even an automaton couldn’t work forever, and after almost 24 hours of straight work Rabbit was starting to misfire so bad his hands rattled as they shook. Steve slid off his perch, which he had only briefly left for food and bathroom breaks, and put a hand on Rabbit’s shoulder, “You’re not going to be any help to him if you don’t power down.”

“C-c-c-can’t,” Rabbit shook his head, “No-no-not done.”

“Spine’ll be fine if you power down for a few hours.” Quite a bit of work had been completed and now The Spine’s core was glowing strongly, boiler bubbling away. The occasional whiffs of steam floated from the offline bot’s cheek vents, and his limbs were a good way towards being reattached. It was mostly cosmetic work that was left, and that could wait. 

“Do-do-don’t want to leave him alone,” Rabbit said softly. 

Steve’s expression softened, “He’s not going to be alone. And you aren’t either. You’re part of a team, remember?” He stick his head out of the tent and spotted the other Commandos right where he’d expected them to be; sitting around a crate just outside the tent playing poker.

“What’s going on Cap?” James was the first too look up, a concerned look on the Brit’s face, “Is he all right?”

“Could you guys come in here for a sec?”

Rabbit wrung his hands nervously and his head tic’d to one side as the other Commandos entered the tent, wanting desperately to get back to work on his brother. 

“Will you guys watch Rabbit and Spine while Rabbit powers down?”

“Of course we will, Cap.” Gabe said it incredulously, like the question didn’t even need to be asked in the first place.

“Why’d ya even need to ask?” Jim shuffled the worn deck of cards between his hands. 

“Thu-thu-thank you-“

Dum Dum cut Rabbit off before he could even finish getting the words out, “You’re a Howling Commando, Tin Man. And the Commando’s look out fer each other. Anybody who messes wit’ us gets a fist in his face.” The big man held up a meaty fist for emphasis. 

Rabbit’s frame seemed to sag in relief and he sat down where he stood, back leaning against the table that his brother rested on. His fingers twitched sporadically as he powered down, then his frame grew still. 

The other Commandos watched to make sure that Rabbit was really out, then they filed out of the tent to resume their former position guarding their teammate and his brother. Steve smiled and lay down on the cot in the corner of the tent to get some shut eye himself.


	8. Respect

Fairly short chapter.

Also: some art for Chapter 4: http://fav.me/d5wd932

\----------

By the time Steve had finished giving a report to the police and had gotten back to the Tower, Michael had gotten The Spine up and moving. The titanium alloy bot wasn’t moving particularly well or fast, but he was awake and upright. 

As he expected, everyone was down in Tony’s lab when he arrived. The billionaire himself was watching over Michael’s shoulder with professional interest as the engineer worked on The Spine, who was sitting calmly on the edge of a table stripped to the waist. Every minute or two a tremor would work it’s way through the bot’s body, starting at his feet and working up until his head tic’d to the side and steam spurted in uneven bursts from the spines on his back. Michael would calmly wait the shakes out, then go back to work. 

Bruce had made an appearance as well, and was carefully bandaging Steve Negrete’s hand while Rabbit watched. Sam, meanwhile, had been charged with watching over The Jon. Currently, the slight brass bot was in the middle of an animated conversation with DUM-E, somehow able to translate the beeps and burbles of the other AI with ease. As Steve watched, DUM-E made some sort of gesture with it’s single arm and The Jon got a face full of fire-suppressant foam. 

Sam leapt to his feet as The Jon shrieked and tore around the room, unable to see anything through the foam. Michael turned from his work at the noise and rolled his eyes when Rabbit got up to chase after his youngest brother. Tony cursed and went over to chastise DUM-E for spraying things that weren’t on fire. Again. 

“How are you doing?” Steve asked as he wandered over to check on The Spine. 

“I-I-I-I’m fine, Captain Rogers,” The Spine frowned when his voice box stuck and stuttered for a second. Another tremor ran up his back and there was an unpleasant grinding sound as the bot’s head jerked to the side, a bit of oil trickling from his black lips. 

“What he means is that he’ll be fine once I get him home.” Michael sighed and wiped his hands on his jumpsuit, then pulled out a rag and handed it to The Spine. The silver automaton took it gratefully and wiped away the oil on his face. “A bunch of stuff got fried by the Tesla Coil that I can’t replace here and his programming is having fits from being overwritten so quickly, but he’ll be okay ‘til we get home,” The engineer fixed his charge with a hard look, “IF he takes it easy.”

The Spine had the grace to look slightly sheepish as he picked up his shirt and put it on, carefully concentrating on keeping his fingers from shaking so he could do up the buttons, “I-I’m sorry we were so much trouble, C-C-Captain Rogers.”

“None of this was your fault,” Steve took a seat on the table next to The Spine, “We can’t go a week around here without getting attacked by some evil organization or another. Tony’s like a magnet for ‘em. I’m just sorry you and your brothers got involved.”

“I can’t st-st-st-stand by and let people g-g-get hurt when there’s something I-I-I-I can do,” The Spine felt the need to explain himself to Steve anyway. 

“Just don’t kill yourself in the process,” Steve put a hand on the bot’s shoulder, then sighed and got up to help with the tangle of limbs that The Jon, Rabbit, and Sam had become. 

A few minutes later The Jon was sulking in the corner bareheaded, as Sam had taken his wig and hat to see if he could wash the foam out. Bruce snorted in laughter at the sight as he stood beside Steve, “It’s incredible how human they act.”

Steve nodded, “They have more humanity than many people I’ve met. I just wish everyone could see it.”

 

\- - - - - -

 

Steve Rogers sighed as he pulled on his stiff dress uniform. Every once and a while, the top brass seemed to get the need to formally award one thing or another to Captain America. This time, the Commandos had been asked to attend as well. None of them was looking forward to it, and Steve figured that he’d have to go track down several of the guys to make sure they put on their dress uniforms. He wouldn’t put it past any of them to try and attend the ceremony in their usual mud-spattered and ripped clothes. 

The tent flap opened behind him, the sound of hissing steam and whirring gears tell Steve who it was before he could even turn around, “Hey, Rabbit. You ready to go?” 

Rabbit’s optics blinked in confusion. He was still dressed in his clothes from the previous day, wrinkled army slacks and a loose t-shirt. The hem of his pants had come untucked from his boots and were gathering an impressive layer of mud. 

“Where’s your dress uniform?” Steve frowned. The bot had never seemed to care incredibly about what he wore, and Rabbit was the last person he’d expected to have to have this fight with. 

“What dress uniform?” Rabbit sat down on his bunk and pulled a small harmonica out of his pocket, intending to work through a new song that had come to mind during their last mission. 

“For the ceremony.”

Rabbit looked at Steve like he’d grown a second head, “I-I-I’m lucky the military gives me clothes a-at all. I’m not a soldier, I’m a weapon. I-I-I don’t get a rank or medals or a uniform.”

That. . . that was unsurprising actually, but still sad. The issue of the military considering Rabbit and his brothers to be weapons instead of people had come up before, and Steve himself had dealt with it once or twice from particularly hardheaded generals. 

“Weapon or not, you’re a Commando and the whole team is coming,” Steve opened up his footlocker and pulled out a spare pair of pants followed by a dress shirt, tossing them Rabbit’s way, “Get dressed. They’ll be a little big, but not too bad.”

Rabbit got dressed quickly in one of Steve’s spare uniforms, though he struggled a moment with the tie until the Captain reached over to help. The fit actually wasn’t too bad. Rabbit was slimmer, but he nearly matched Steve in height and had surprisingly broad shoulders. 

Later that evening, the Howling Commandos stood at attention shoulder to shoulder in front of some of the biggest names in the military. They were certainly the most motley group ever assembled. Their uniforms were rumpled and Dum Dum, of course, had refused to take off his tattered bowler hat. Jacques and James looked out of place in their French and British uniforms and several people were giving Jim nervous looks, as though he would suddenly tear off his American uniform and declare he was a Japanese spy. Rabbit stood nervously beside Steve, trying very hard to keep his occasional glitches and twitches under control. Everyone was looking at him, trying to figure out why the robot was standing there in full dress beside the soldiers. To most, Rabbit being there was the equivalent of someone bringing their motorcycle or rifle to the meeting. 

A general moved down the line, pinning on medals and giving murmured words of thanks. He paused in front of Rabbit, who shook nervously and tried very hard to keep from venting steam in the man’s face, before moving on without a word. 

 

Nightfall found the Commandos in their usual domain, a seedy, smoky bar trying to relax after too much time spent at “some stuffy ceremony.” Even Steve and Rabbit took the time to attend, and while the Captain stayed in his dress uniform, Rabbit had dug out a nice pair of dark slacks and a black double-breasted vest topped off with a coachmen’s hat. When the bar band took a break between sets, Rabbit climbed up and nabbed the accordion. The men in the bar who knew and had heard Rabbit sing before cheered as the bot struck up a lively tune. 

Steve watched and felt like he was seeing a glimpse of what the automaton had been like before the war, when he had been an entertainer. Lifting his glass in a toast with the other men, Steve resolved to have a chat with Colonel Phillips the next day. Even if Rabbit wasn’t technically an enlisted man, he still deserved some basic respect.


	9. Aftermath

\- - - - - - 

 

With The Spine fixed up and The Jon de-foamed, the tiredness that was lingering over the group suddenly hit them full force. As the human members cleaned up and prepared for the drive back to their hotel, Steve offered to let them stay the night at the Tower. In fact, he insisted. There was no guarantee that AIM wouldn’t try and make another move for them, after all, and it would make more sense for Michael to be near the workshop if something happened to The Spine overnight. Tony certainly had enough spare rooms. 

The band, of course, protested until Steve pointed out that each of them would get their own bedroom and bathroom. The temptation of having their own king sized bed after a week of motel rooms was too much, and soon they had settled in various rooms on one of the floors on the Tower. 

 

The next morning, Tony found himself awake at an ungodly hour (for him at least). JARVIS was saying something about him being needed in the living room, and that is was really important, but the billionaire wasn’t really hearing it as he pulled on the first shirt that came out of his drawer. 

When he stepped into the common room, the first thing Tony noticed was the imposing form of Nick Fury himself. The director of SHIELD was standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and that trademark pissed off frown on his face. 

“It’s about time, Stark,” Fury stated without preamble, “You wanna tell me why I’m just now hearing that you were attacked last night? The goddamn NYPD knew before SHIELD did.”

“Uh,” Tony’s mind worked for an explanation. It was too early for this, “Well, there were lots of witnesses that called 911. And we didn’t have time to stick around for a report because we had injured,” Slowly but surely the billionaire’s brain came online, his snark protocols setting to default. “Really, though, for an organization as advanced as SHIELD is shouldn’t you have noticed that a hundred people had dialed 911 before the police even did? You’re always bragging that SHIELD is watching every news source on the planet, but apparently you aren’t following the New York police band.”

That was clearly not the answer that Fury had been looking for. His perma-frown deepened, but whatever epic tongue-lashing he had prepared was interrupted by the sound of heavy, mechanical footsteps. 

Both men turned to look at the room’s entrance as Rabbit walked in, wearing only a pair of cotton pajama pants and a t-shirt. The bot barely seemed to notice them as he headed for the kitchen and filled up his water bottle in the sink. After taking a long draught, Rabbit wandered back into the living room and stared at the new human curiously, “So who’s the pirate?”

Fury’s expression, if possible, managed to become even angrier, “Stark. What the hell is this?”

Rabbit never took to being ignored well. He huffed and crossed his arms, “Hey. Anybody ever tell ya that’s rude? For yer information, my n-name is Rabbit and I’m a clockwork automaton built back in 1896, not by Tony Stark!”

“He’s one of Cap’s war buddies.” Tony hastily interjected before Fury could smite the copper automaton. 

“From the Howling Commandos, yes,” Fury’s stern expression actually softened slightly as he held out a hand, “Good to meet you. Thank you for serving.”

Rabbit cautiously shook the proffered hand, “R-right. Uh, thanks.”

Eyes turned the doorway again when Steve walked in on the conversation, the super soldier’s eyes going wide at the sight of Fury, “Oh, uh, General Fury, sir.”

“Captain Rogers,” Fury gave him a nod of greeting, “I was just discussing with Stark here about the fact that when you were attacked by a hostile group, why your first response wasn’t to contact SHIELD.” The words were polite, the tone was not. 

“I’m sorry sir,” Steve felt like he was back in front of Colonel Phillips, getting chewed out after a mission, “The battle was over pretty fast, and we had injured to take care of. When the police showed up, I figured you’d heard about it too.”

Which was pretty much what Tony had said, but put much nicer. Behind Fury’s back, Tony snickered. 

As further proof that Nick Fury couldn’t stay mad at Captain America, Fury’s only response was to grumble, “Well you better damn well remember to call me first next time, or I’m puttin’ trackers in all of you.” He headed out of the room, but didn’t quite make it before he was shoved aside by the blurred form of The Jon running at full tilt. 

Nick Fury wasn’t a super spy for nothing. The Jon didn’t even have time to react before he was sent flying through the air to land on the couch with a loud clatter. 

“Th’ Jon!” Rabbit moved first, running to see if his brother was alright. The Jon slid off the couch to the floor, eyes wide. The brass plating of his torso rattled loudly, then slim bot burst into laughter.

“That was great!” The Jon slowly climbed to his feet. It was fortunate that his wig and hat were still off drying, because they certainly wouldn’t have survived his short flight. Curiously, The Jon wandered over to get a closer look at Fury, who was looking quite irked about having thrown one of the Captain’s friends. “So are you a real pirate? What’s the name of your ship? Do you have a parrot? What happened to your eye?”

There was a vein on Fury’s temple that threatened to blow. Steve hastily intervened. 

“This is General Nick Fury. He’s not a pirate, he’s a spy.” Steve put an arm around The Jon’s shoulders and steered him away from the SHIELD director, “Now what did you come in here for?”

“Oh, right!” It was fortunate that The Jon was so easily distracted, “Rabbit, did we bring any Pepsi?”

“It’s out in the van,” Rabbit tugged on his pajama pants, which were slipping down his hips, “Hey, JARVIS?”

“Yes sir?” The AI’s voice was calm and polite as always. 

“Could ya wake up Steve? Th’ Jon needs his Pepsi from outta th’ van.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony stared at the copper automaton incredulously, “How did you do that. JARVIS isn’t supposed to respond to anyone who doesn’t live here.”

Rabbit shrugged, “Ha-had trouble powering down, so me and JARVIS had a chat. He’s less annoying than QWERTY is.”

Fury took the opportunity to slip out as Steve Negrete walked in, scratching at his bandaged hand absently, “What is it? The AI butler guy told me to come out here.”

“I need my Pepsi!” The Jon grabbed hold of the Sound engineer’s uninjured arm and flounced out of the room. 

Heaving a sigh, Tony flopped down on one of the undamaged couches. He hadn’t thought that mornings in Avengers tower could get any crazier. Then the Walter bots had showed up and proved him wrong. 

Rabbit wandered back to his room to get some actual clothing on, so Steve sat down on a couch too and unfolded the newspaper he’d had under his arm. As expected, the attack on the theatre had made headlines, though the details of the attack were thankfully sparse. Just some vague information about a “terrorist group” that had attacked a concert for unknown reasons and been repelled by the Avengers. It was probably a good thing that Steam Powered Giraffe wasn’t more well known, otherwise the band would be up to their eyeballs in reporters. 

“So the blue matter can form these crystals, right? And they kind of grow and assimilate the bot’s hardware, which is how we managed to upgrade them to interface with modern technology,” Michael was energetically gesturing with his hands as he and Bruce walked into the room, headed for the kitchen. “But the crystals have data written on them at this microscopic level, which is how they function without any kind of computer processor.”

Bruce grabbed a bagel and poured a cup of coffee from the coffee maker, “Fascinating. And you said that there are other colors of matter that do different things?”

Michael nodded and took a big bite of his bagel, “Yep. The Becile’s specialized in green matter, but it’s really dangerous. Right now I’ve been looking into Purple Matter-“

Their voices faded as the two walked out of the room and down the hall. 

“Oh, so he’ll talk to Bruce, but not to me?” Tony crossed his arms and frowned. 

“That’s because Bruce can ask nicely,” A voice commented from the ceiling. 

“Barton?” Because, really, who else would be hiding up in the air ducts, “How long have you been up there?”

“I was avoiding Fury,” Clint dropped down from the ceiling and settled on the couch like sneaking around in air ducts was nothing out of the ordinary, “So what’s on TV?”

 

Pepper Potts hummed tunelessly to herself as she wandered one of the (many) unused floors of Avengers tower. She had just returned from a business trip and wanted to surprise Tony. First, though, she had to retrieve something from one of the unused guest rooms. Reaching the room, Pepper reached for the handle only to have the door swing open. 

The Spine was the last band member to wander out of his room for the morning. Normally he was one of the first up and ready to start the day, but he had chosen to power down longer than normal in the hopes that it would soothe some of his malfunctioning. It had worked, kind of. The shaking was less violent and his stutter wasn’t as bad, which was a relief. His spinal column, though, was not happy in the least. The Spine had gone to put on his shirt when he discovered that attempting to retract his smokestacks had been really rather painful, and so for once was leaving his borrowed room clad only in a pair of pants. 

A woman’s shriek caused The Spine’s audios to cut out painfully and he clapped his hands over his ears, looking down at the short, red-headed woman who was currently backing away from him slowly. 

She seemed to have stopped yelling, though, so The Spine let his arms drop back to his sides and slouched slightly to try and make himself less intimidating, never mind how bending like that made his back twinge, “Are you all right, ma’am? I-I-I-I didn’t mean to st-startle you.”

Pepper put a hand to her chest, trying to calm down after suddenly coming face-to-chest with a tall silver robot, “Great, I leave Tony for a week and he starts building robots. Without even telling me!”

The Spine frowned as he bent down to pick up the purse and travel bag that Pepper had dropped. A tremor ran through his body and steam puffed from his back, startling the woman again, “Ma’am, I-I-I was not built by Tony Stark. I’m actually here to visit Cuh-Captain Rogers. My name is The Spine.” 

“Not built by Tony? That’s a first,” Pepper took her bags with a muttered thanks, “I didn’t know Steve knew any robotics experts. Who are you here with?”

“I-I-I know the Captain from the war,” This wasn’t going well. The Spine wished he could retreat back to his room and fully dress himself, at least, but didn’t want to be rude, “I-I am here with my-my-my brothers and bandmates. We saw Captain Rogers on the-the-the news and decided to come see him.”

“Is there something wrong with your voice box?” Pepper leaned closer in concern as The Spine’s hands shook with another tremor. 

“I-I-I sustained some damage during an a-a-attack last night. I’ll be fuh-fine.” The Spine took a small step back. He didn’t want to hurt her if he glitched unexpectedly. 

“An attack? Was the team attacked last night?” Pepper’s expression of concern quickly melted to one of anger, “And he didn’t call me? TONY!” She stomped towards the elevator, intending to give her boyfriend a piece of her mind. 

The Spine debated following her before sighing and heading back into his room. Sore back or not, he was going to get fully dressed. People always treated him more naturally when he was wore his stage outfit, a little less like an object and a little more like a person. And with his body glitching out of his control, he needed that slight comfort right now. 

 

\- - - - - 

 

Steve Rogers felt like he was waging a never-ending losing battle. Not the one against HYDRA, thank goodness, but the eternal one between him and Colonel Phillips. The older man had made it clear from day one that he didn’t like Steve Rogers, and though the young Captain had gained a certain amount of respect from Phillips after freeing the HYDRA prisoners, that didn’t mean that Phillips intended to make things easy for Steve. 

Normally, Steve felt like he almost preferred Colonel Phillip’s no-nonsense attitude compared to the veritable hero worship he got from some other members of the military. Today was not one of those days. 

“Look Captain, I’ve bent a lot of rules for you.” Phillips was sitting at his dented metal desk, hands folded, “You wanted to lead some rag-tag band of misfits, we let you. You wanted to take one of the military’s most top secret weapons, we said okay. But this request is just ludicrous.”

“I don’t see how, sir.” Steve stood with his hands folded behind his back, trying very hard to be respectful even as he got angrier, “It has come to my attention that one of my men has been routinely ignored by the higher ups. He doesn’t get paid, he doesn’t get leave, and this week he told me he doesn’t even get a uniform. All I am asking is that he receives a uniform and from now on that he be included in any ceremonies that the Commandos are asked to.”

“Rabbit is a machine. A weapon.” Phillips cut right through to the heart of the matter, “Machines don’t need clothes, and they don’t get medals. It’s only because Colonel Walter made it part of the rental contract that they get clothes at all.”

That was the problem. On paper, Rabbit had about the same status in the military that the tanks and trucks did. The top brass saw him as a convenient weapon that could be sent out into battle without risking the lives of soldiers. Honestly, Steve knew what it was like. Many generals looked at him and only saw Captain America the super soldier, living weapon, and ignored Steve Rogers completely. 

“Rabbit has proven himself time and again to be a brave, loyal member of my unit. I have seen him keep fighting even with broken limbs and terrible injuries, not because of his programming, but because he hates HYDRA and wants this war to end as much as any of us.” Steve fixed the Colonel with his steely blue glare, “I don’t think it’s asking much that he get honored alongside the rest of my men, and that he has something to wear while he does it.”

The stare off continued for several long seconds before Colonel Phillips sighed and ran a hand down his face, “Fine. You want to give the robot a full uniform and take him to parties, have at it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Steve saluted and walked out of the tent. It was a small victory, but at least the men wouldn’t have to keep lending Rabbit their clothes when his were damaged. Maybe next he could get the top brass to actually acknowledge Rabbit’s service. One step at a time. 

 

\- - - - - -


	10. Goodbyes

Eventually, The Spine made his way upstairs to find his friends, hiding a wince when the fabric of his shirt pulled uncomfortably over the ridges of his back. Rabbit was at his side, having come back down to his borrowed room to get dressed. The copper automaton had his favorite pair of pants and all six of his belts on, though his vest was safely packed away until their next performance, and his goggle-adorned hat rested proudly on his head. As they made their way to the freight elevator, Rabbit chatted away happily about the pirate/super spy he had apparently encountered earlier in the morning. 

The Spine smiled and nodded indulgently at his older brother, though he wasn’t really listening. It had been a wonderful trip (well, aside from the whole being attacked by an evil organization thing), but the band couldn’t stay forever. Really, they were already pushing things. It would take them at least a week for them to drive back to San Diego, realistically, and The Spine knew he was in for a complete maintenance overhaul once they returned. Their next show was in three weeks, they couldn’t afford to waste any more time visiting old friends. 

It took a few minutes to gather the various band members and their things and get it all packed in the van. Reluctant goodbyes were had on all sides as they exchanged contact information and made promises to keep in touch. 

“Maybe next time I can visit you guys,” Steve patted Rabbit’s back when he found himself wrapped in one of the copper bot’s hugs, “I never have gotten to see Walter Manor.”

The Spine shuddered at the idea of inflicting the Walter Manor on anyone. “I-I-I think it would be suh-safer for everyone if we v-v-v-isit you here.”

“Well you can at least let us use the quinjet to pick you up so you don’t have to drive a week to get here.” After taking a moment to extract himself from Rabbit’s grasp, Steve put a hand on The Spine’s shoulder, “And really, don’t hesitate to telephone me if something happens.”

“Thank you, Cuh-Captain.” The Spine smiled and climbed into the van after his band mates. It was going to be a long ride home. 

 

\- - - -

 

It was over. World War Two had ended, and the troops were coming home. The Walter bots stood side by side as they listened with other soldiers to the radio broadcast announcing V-E day. Tomorrow, they would be powered down and packed up to be shipped back to the states; back to Walter Manor. They should’ve been happy. 

In the end, though, it felt like a hollow victory. All the Howling Commandos were silent, a contrast to the rejoicing men around them as they thought about the man who had made this all possible. Captain America had been lost, choosing to crash a top secret HYDRA plane alone in the middle of the arctic; all to save the country he loved even at the cost of his life. There was no one who deserved to return home more, and instead he was out somewhere in a frozen wasteland a thousand miles away. 

For the Walter Bots, they hadn’t just lost a good friend. There wasn’t really a home for them to return to, not any more. Walter Manor would just be one more reminder of the father they had lost. The father who’s funeral they hadn’t even been able to attend. 

There was a sniffle, and The Spine looked down to see a drop of oil roll down The Jon’s faceplate before the small brass bot buried his face in his arm with a heavy sob. 

“There, there, Jon. Don’t cry.” The Spine put an arm around his youngest brother’s shoulders and pulled him close, “It’ll all be okay.” If only he could believe that himself. 

The radio in front of them continued to play, “They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home. Some will never return. Embrace these, father, and receive them, thy heroic servants, into thy kingdom.”

 

Slowly, but surely, the years passed. World War Two became a memory, overshadowed by the horror that was Vietnam. Then, there wasn’t a Steve Rogers to keep the military from taking advantage of them, of sending them out into hopeless situations without a thought to the results. After the bots came back to Walter manor in pieces, the Walters declared no more war for their automatons. It was a comforting thought, no more war, but the brothers would still see the mangled bodies and hear the gunfire in their nightmares for years to come. They were automatons, and their memories didn’t fade with time. 

Music became the best escape. As decades passed, the humans began to warm up to them again. Crowds came to see them when they played and would send them fanmail full of wonderful art and gifts. People liked them, and viewed them as something other than emotionless pieces of metal. 

It was a lazy summer afternoon when Michael anxiously called everyone into the living room. The One Man Band had been watching television when all hell had broken loose in New York. Iron Man was plainly visible onscreen, firing on some kind of aliens as everyone else came running into the room. 

“Wh-what?” Rabbit stared at the television, “Is this some kinda cuh-crazy movie? I didn’t think Iron Man did movies.”

The voice of a news anchor answered his question, “No, ladies and gentlemen. You are not seeing some publicity stunt or movie action scene. This is all live, going down right now in downtown Manhattan. We bring you the story, live, as a new group known as the Avengers fight off the alien menace.”

Whatever she said next went unheard when the Walter bots caught sight of a figure in the background of the video, hurling a brightly colored and very familiar shield. 

“Is, is that Cap?” The Jon asked plaintively, wanting very hard to believe it was true as he planted himself inches from the screen. 

“Can’t be.” The Spine sunk down onto the couch, photoreceptors trained on the television, “He was lost 70 years ago. There’s no way he could’ve survived.”

But then the Captain America look-a-like ran over to save the camera crew from being crushed by falling masonry, yelling at them to take cover, and there was no doubt. Even with the mask on, the bots would recognize that face, that voice, anywhere. 

“It is him!” Rabbit cried, pointing at the television dramatically as he jumped up and down in excitement, “It’s STEVE. He’s back! He’s okay! He’s n-n-not dead.” A tear of joy ran down Rabbit’s oxidized faceplate, “He’s not dead.”

And maybe everything really would be okay. 

 

\- - - - 

And that's all, folks! Thank you for all the comments and kudos. Keep an eye out for the companion piece to this, Soldiers, coming out in the next day or so.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mecto Amore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696875) by [GrangeLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrangeLady/pseuds/GrangeLady)




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